


A Very Happy Ending

by AelinElentiya



Series: The 100 [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: wedding fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AelinElentiya/pseuds/AelinElentiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Octavia’s wedding, and Bellamy is struggling to accept the fact that his little sister is all grown up. However, the wedding makes him contemplate his own future.<br/>A conversation with a certain Dr/Chancellor might finally make him realize what he wants and go after it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Happy Ending

A VERY HAPPY ENDING  
by AelinElentiya  
The 100 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

—a very happy ending— 

 

 

Bellamy Blake has been afraid many times in his life, more times than he’s even willing to admit. But there have been very few times when he’s ever been truly terrified, and today is one of them.  
Today, his little sister is getting married, and Bellamy isn’t sure if he’s actually ready to let her go through with it, though he also knows he can’t stop her even if he tried. It’s not that he has a problem with her choice of groom. He trusts Lincoln, and knows the Grounder will take care of her. And he doesn’t doubt his sister’s ability to make the right choices for herself—if O didn’t think this was right, then she wouldn’t have said yes. No, Bellamy has no problem with her getting married at all.  
But he’s taken care of Octavia since the day she was born. He’s basically raised her. And getting married means that Octavia is all grown up now. It means she’s okay without him. It means she doesn’t need him like she used to anymore, and that scares him.  
And he’s definitely not ready to let her go yet. He could have forever to prepare for this day, and he probably would never be ready. Never in a million years had imagined that this day might come. That Octavia would even want to get married, that she would find someone who protects her and loves her almost even more than he did. That she is perfectly fine without Bellamy constantly by her side.  
Shortly after Lincoln had asked her to marry him, Octavia had come to him and asked if he would give her away. She wasn’t entirely sure how Grounder weddings worked, but they’d quickly found out this was a tradition for Grounders as well.  
So today he’s preparing to “give her away”, and the knot in his stomach has only gotten bigger since he’d woken up this morning. He’s sitting in a tent with Lincoln and the other groomsmen, wearing a kilt (Grounder tradition requires that all men, including the groom, wear a kilt), freezing his ass off but trying not to show it. It’s only early spring, and there’s still a thin layer of snow on the ground, and even though the sun is out, it’s still too cold to be walking around shirtless wearing a skirt. To make matters worse, the cold doesn’t appear to bother Lincoln or his best man (also a Grounder, but Bellamy can’t seem to remember his name). He tries not to shiver visibly, but it’s hard to hide the fact that you’re freezing when your legs are literally shaking. He’s starting to worry he won’t be able to walk at all.  
Lincoln walks over to wear he’s sitting, sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry about the kilt,” he says. “I know this weather isn’t pleasant. We’d hoped for a warmer day. But don’t worry. As soon as the ceremony is over, you will have time to put on warmer clothes.”  
“T-Thank G-God. This is the most p-pointless t-tradition I’ve ever heard of,” Bellamy stutters. It’s taking everything in his willpower not to wrap his arms around his torso in an attempt to keep warm.  
Lincoln laughs. “It is pointless. I can’t even remember why we do it,” he says. “I suppose it is because it is an attractive look. According to the women, anyway. At least you will have Clarke’s full attention.”  
He winks, and Bellamy scowls. He’s tried to convince Octavia and Lincoln both (as well as Abby, Clarke’s mother) that he and Clarke are only friends more times than he can count, but no one seems to believe him. She’s been back for less than two whole months after she took off when they came back from Mount Weather, and Bellamy’s still having a hard time trying to forgive her for leaving, even though he understands why she left in the first place. “There’s nothing between Clarke and I,” he says, through his teeth. “I don’t get why you two won’t just leave it alone.”  
“Because we know you’re lying to yourself,” Lincoln says. “But alright. I won’t bother you about Clarke today.”  
“Good,” Bellamy says. “So. Are you sure you’re ready to do this?”  
Lincoln smiles. “I’m more than ready,” he says. “But are you? I mean you no offence, Bellamy, but you look a little scared.”  
“I’m not scared,” Bellamy says, and sighs. “I never imagined that this would happen. That O would be getting married. I’m happy for her, but I don’t know... I guess I’m not prepared to let her go.”  
“You won’t be letting her go. Not really,” Lincoln says. “Octavia will still be here. She’ll just be married. Just because she’s getting married doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you anymore, Bellamy. You are a very important part of Octavia’s life. The most important person in it besides me. She might not depend on you like she did when she was a child, but she still needs you. Of course she still needs you.”  
“I know she does,” Bellamy says. “I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to do with myself now that I don’t have to watch out for her all the time anymore. Now that I’m not the only one who’s responsible for her safety and health and happiness... and everything else.”  
“Don’t be angry at me for saying this. But perhaps now that Octavia is not your number one priority, you can do things for yourself, do what makes you happy for a change,” Lincoln suggests. “You have no reason to hold back anymore, you know. There is nothing keeping you occupied. The remainder of your people are safe and well-looked after here with the Ark-people. There are no threats, no enemies. Your sister is about to be married, so you won’t have to worry about her quite so much. There is nothing to hold back now. No excuses, no reasons to keep you from admitting what you really feel.”  
“I guess I could take some time to my self,” Bellamy says. He knows exactly what Lincoln means, but he won’t indulge the stupid fantasy the two of them have dreamt up—that he’s in love with Clarke. It’s nonsense. Of course he’s not in love with her. She’s his partner, his friend. Nothing else.  
Lincoln sighs. Suddenly, a horn blows from somewhere. The other Grounder, who has been silent throughout their conversation, straightens. “It is time,” the other Grounder says. “You. You must go to the bridal tent. The bride will be waiting for you there.”  
Bellamy nods, gets up, and leaves the grooms tent. The bridal tent is a few feet away, and he reaches it just as Clarke and Raven, Octavia’s bridesmaids, emerge, and his breath catches in his throat.  
He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Clarke and Raven are both in long, scarlet dresses that look too much like blood. It looks like they were made from some kind of leather, and the dresses are tight-fitting and have little sleeves that just barely cover their shoulders. Raven’s hair has been pulled up into a bun, but Clarke’s... Clarke is wearing a braid around the top of her head, the rest of her hair loose and curled, and there’s a feather in her hair. She looks terrifyingly pretty, and Bellamy can’t move for a moment. He’s completely frozen, but not from the cold, and he stares at her, transfixed.  
“Awful, isn’t it?” Clarke says, snapping him out of his daze. “I hate red.”  
He smiles. “At least they let you wear clothes, Princess,” he says. He can’t help but notice that her eyes suddenly flicker towards the kilt. She flushes a little and looks away quickly. “You both look fantastic.”  
She smiles, too, but it’s a nervous sort of smile. It doesn’t suit her, he thinks. Clarke is not supposed to be nervous. “O’s waiting for you,” she says.  
“Right,” he says. “Er... I’ll see you out there, then.”  
She nods. He goes into the bridal tent, mentally cursing how flustered he is. He tells himself it’s because he’s never seen her in a dress, that’s all. He’s just not used to it. It has nothing to do with the fact that the dress makes him want to do things to her that her mother certainly wouldn’t approve of.  
Inside the tent, his heart nearly stops again. Octavia turns when he enters, and he lets out a breath. She’s wearing a long off-white dress made of animal skin. It has different patterns on the fabric, like swirls. Her hair is done in a braid down her back, and there are little pink roses placed throughout the knots. Her eyelids are a deep silver and seem to sparkle, and her lips have been painted a soft red that is just a shade lighter than the girls’ dresses. There’s a necklace that looks like it’s made from small white feathers around her neck, and she’s wearing a fur shawl around her shoulders to keep warm.  
“Wow,” he says finally. “O, you look beautiful.”  
She smiles. “Really?” She asks softly. “Do you think Mom would like it?”  
He’s not at all surprised that she asks. Their mother has crossed his mind more than once today, and he can’t help but wonder what she would think of it all. “I think she would love it. She would be so proud of you, O,” he says. He walks over to her, and gives her a tight hug, careful not to mess up her hair or dress.  
“Do you think she’d like Lincoln? If she could meet him?” She asks.  
He doesn’t answer at first. What can he say? Their mother preferred the kind of men that were the complete opposite of what Lincoln is. Maybe she would have been relieved that Octavia hadn’t followed her footsteps, that she had chosen wisely. He’s not sure what their mother would think of him, if she would like Lincoln. “I think so,” he says. “She would have been happy that you are happy.”  
Octavia nods. “I can’t believe I’m getting married,” she says. “I’m really sorry they made you wear a kilt.”  
He sees the tears in her eyes that she’s fighting back. “It’s not too late to say no,” he says, because he’s obligated to tell her so.  
“No. I mean, I’m fine. Just... a little emotional, I guess,” she says. “Probably the nerves. Clarke and Raven look great, don’t they?”  
“As always,” he says. “What’d you do to get Clarke into a dress, anyway? I never thought I’d see the day.”  
“I told her that it would get your attention,” she says, grinning. “She told me to mind my own business, of course. But it worked. It’s too bad we don’t have dresses available more often. Clarke looks good in them.”  
He rolls his eyes. “You and Lincoln are two minds in one, I swear,” he says. “That’s pretty much exactly what he said about the kilt. That Clarke would notice. She’s right, though. You two have got to stop meddling in our love lives. Or lack thereof.”  
“I’m not meddling,” Octavia insists. “I’m simply trying to make the two of you open your damn eyes to what everyone else can see. Is it so wrong that I want you to be just as happy as Lincoln and I are? It killed you when she left, Bell. I’ve never seen you so depressed. And the moment she came back it was like someone turned on a light inside you. You were smiling again and joking around and laughing and being you again. Because she came back. And you were whole again. Without her, you’re like a sky without stars. Lonely, sad and empty. But when she’s around, you light up again.”  
“I don’t want to discuss Clarke right now,” he says. “You’re supposed to be getting married. Today is all about you, Octavia, alright? I don’t want you focusing on me right now.”  
“Fine,” she says. “But you know I’m right. You’re just afraid to let yourself admit that you love her, because you’re afraid to get hurt.”  
“Octavia,” he says, warningly. “Stop, okay? I don’t want to argue with you moments before your wedding. Whatever I feel for Clarke, it’s not important right now.”  
She sighs, but she looks triumphant, like she succeeded. The horn blows outside the bridal tent, and Octavia suddenly freezes, looking at him with panic in her eyes. “Bellamy,” she whispers. She squeezes her eyes shut. “I’m getting married. I’m getting married. To Lincoln. This is actually going to happen. Oh my God. What was I thinking? This is crazy. I can’t do this. I’ll be a terrible wife.”  
“Octavia. Look at me,” he says, turning her to face him. She looks up, fear in her eyes. “You can do this. You’re going to get married, and you’re going to live happily ever after, just like in those stories I told you when you were little, okay? You’ll be an amazing wife. Lincoln is the luckiest man on this Earth right now. Don’t be afraid, O. Everything’ll be fine.”  
She swallows. Takes a deep breath. Nods. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay. Let’s do this.”  
He holds out his arm to her and she takes it, gripping a little harder than necessary. He leads her outside of the bridal tent, where he can see Clarke and Raven making their way towards the ceremony place.  
Drums begin to beat, slowly and softly, as he leads O to the end of the aisle of leaves and flower petals. “Breathe,” he whispers to her. “You can do this.”  
She exhales. He can feel her trembling, and the grip of her hand on his arm tightens as she spots Lincoln at the end of the aisle, smiling and standing tall and proud. Clarke and Raven are standing on the other side, and Clarke nods and gives him an encouraging smile.  
The drums grow louder. On either side of the aisle, Grounders and Sky-People stand and turn to watch Octavia as he leads her down the aisle in time with the drums. As they get closer, Bellamy notices that Lincoln appears to be sweating despite the cold, and he gives a small nod to the Grounder who will soon be his brother-in-law.  
They reach the end of the aisle at last, and Bellamy turns, kissing both sides of Octavia’s cheeks which are now damp with tears. She smiles at him, and lets go of his arm. He takes his place next to the other Grounder.  
Indra was asked to conduct the ceremony, at Octavia’s request. The Grounders always have their Commander do their wedding ceremony, and although Lincoln technically doesn’t belong to TonDc anymore, it was important to Octavia that Indra still honour him that way. Indra wasn’t happy with the idea, but she eventually took the offer. Bellamy thinks she did it because she still has a lot of respect for Octavia and didn’t want to risk pissing her off.  
The drums are silent now, and Indra holds up her arms, and the wedding guests take their seats. Octavia and Lincoln both turn to each other, and there are tears shining on Octavia’s face, and Lincoln looks like he might cry, too.  
“We gather here today as one people, to witness the union of Lincoln and Octavia,” Indra says. She repeats it in both English and Trigedasleng, and Bellamy thinks that this ceremony is likely going to take a long time if she has to say everything twice. “The rope, please.”  
A grounder from the front row brings a rope forward, gives it to Indra and then returns to his seat. Indra holds the rope above Lincoln and Octavia’s hands, and instructs them to take each other’s hands. “This rope represents the binding of your souls. From this day forward, your bodies and spirits will now be bound for all eternity, in this life and in the next. Your souls are now one.”  
She ties the rope around their hands, three times. It’s different from the weddings they had on the Ark, but Bellamy has to admit he kind of likes that idea—that their souls are bound forever. Normally he might’ve scoffed at that kind of thing, but he can’t help but like it now, the idea that you can actually be bound to someone forever. He glances at Clarke for a moment, notices that she’s watching them with an almost transfixed expression, and looks away quickly.  
“Now, you will each drink from the Holy Cup, to purify your souls as they become bound,” Indra says, and a Grounder—a different one this time—brings a golden goblet forward. It doesn’t look very Holy to him, but it’s probably just symbolic. “Lincoln, you will give the water to Octavia, and Octavia will do the same.”  
The rope makes it a little difficult for Lincoln to bring the goblet up to O’s lips for her to drink, and he struggles not to laugh. He notices that quite a few Grounders and Sky People appear to be trying not to laugh, too, though there’s amusement in their eyes. Lincoln eventually succeeds without spilling any of the water, and Octavia does the same. Her hands are shaking so much that he worries she’s going to spill, but she doesn’t.  
After they drink from the goblet, the other Grounder takes it back from Indra and then rushes back to his seat.  
“It is now time for the marriage blessings,” Indra says. “This is a little different than the tradition. But as Lincoln is no longer Trikru, the Sky People’s leader will take the place of a Commander in this case. Clarke Griffin, and Bellamy Blake, will you please stand in front of the bride and groom?”  
Bellamy glances at Clarke in surprise. When Indra said that one of their leaders would be giving Lincoln the marriage blessing, he’d automatically assumed that it would be her mother or even Marcus Kane. But of course it would be Clarke. As far as the Grounders are concerned, Clarke is their Leader. At least, she’s the leader of the 49 that came to Earth originally, and since Octavia is part of the 49, it makes sense to include Lincoln with the rest of the 49, whom they probably see as Octavia’s people.  
“As Octavia’s brother, you have to give Lincoln the blessing,” Clarke explains under her breath, as she walks over to Octavia and he gives her a confused look.  
He nods, understanding, and stands in front of Lincoln. He swallows. He’s not used to speaking in front of people. The 49 are different—they’re his people. But the rest of the Ark and the Grounders? It’s a little intimidating, standing in front of all of them to give his marriage blessing to Lincoln.  
Indra is standing in Clarke’s spot next to Raven. “Bellamy, repeat after me,” Indra says. “I, Bellamy of the Sky People, hereby grant you, Lincoln of the Earth-men, my blessing on your marriage, and hope that you will have wisdom, strength, honour, happiness and good health for all the rest of your days.”  
He swallows. “I, Bellamy of the Sky People,” he begins, “hereby grant you, Lincoln of the Earth-men, my blessing on your marriage, and hope that you will have wisdom, strength, honour, happiness and good health for all the rest of your days.”  
“And now, Clarke,” Indra says.  
Bellamy’s eyes flicker to Clarke, and he sees that her face has gone pale, and she’s clenching her fists at her sides to keep them from shaking. “I, Clarke of the Sky People, hereby grant you, Octavia of the Sky People, my blessing on your marriage, and hope that you, too, will have wisdom, strength, honour, happiness and good health for all the rest of your days,” she says, and he hears the tremble in her voice.  
Then it is done, and he and Clarke return to their places. “Now the bride and groom will recite their marriage vows to each other,” Indra says. She nods to Lincoln, who’s still sweating, but locks eyes with Octavia.  
“Octavia,” Lincoln begins, and his voice shakes. That’s a little shocking to hear—Lincoln is never nervous or afraid, but here he is, about to recite his wedding vows to O with a shaking voice. “Before we met, I never dreamed I would have a future in which I could be as happy as I am now. I was a very different man then, but you have saved me more times than you can even know. It is because of you that I kept fighting even when I felt hopeless. Because of you that I was able to see past my sins and forgive myself, to move on and become the better man I am today. A man who is worthy of you. I hope you’ll take me as I am, for richer, for poor, in sickness and in health, and for all our days to come.”  
Bellamy’s not sure if it’s sweat or tears dripping down Lincoln’s cheeks now. Indra repeats the vows so that the other Grounders can understand them, and Bellamy notices that several of the Sky People are dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs.  
Octavia is definitely crying when Indra nods to her and she begins. “Lincoln,” she says. “I didn’t think I believed in Fate until I met you. I never thought I even deserved to have the kind of happy ending that existed in the fairytales my brother used to read me, or that there was something else other than my freedom to fight for. Something I wanted just as badly. Every day I wake up, and I look at you, and you’re mine, and I have to close my eyes for a moment so I can thank whatever Gods exists for giving me you. You taught me so much about myself. You taught me how to be a warrior, how to be brave. You taught me that other people don’t get to decide who we are. No one else but us gets to decide how we live our lives. Only we get to decide our destinies. This is the only life we get to live, and God, I wouldn’t change a single moment of it, because it led me here, to you. To the happy ending I only dreamt of. You are my soul mate, and I love you. So today is the first day of our happily ever after, and for the first time in my life, I’m excited about the future.”  
Even though Octavia is crying, Bellamy can’t recall ever hearing such utter joy in his sister’s voice, and it makes him happy, that she can feel that joy, that she’s able to be so happy it is heard in her voice.  
She’ll be fine, he thinks. She’s going to be perfectly fine forever now.  
Then Indra, who is smiling too, because even she can’t help but be affected by Octavia’s joy, unties the rope around their wrists, and steps back. “It is my honour to now pronounce you man and wife,” Indra says. “You may kiss the bride.”  
And Lincoln does. In fact, Bellamy has to look away because it’s a little uncomfortable to watch his sister be kissed that way.  
When they finally break apart, Lincoln sweeps Octavia into his arms, and carries her down the aisle, and the cheers that follow are deafening.

 

~*~

 

They let him change back into normal clothes in between the ceremony and the reception, and Bellamy has never been happier to put on pants in his life. When he finds his way to the reception, where a party is in full swing, he’s not surprised to find that Octavia and Lincoln decided to take some time to themselves.  
He finds Clarke, looking extremely uncomfortable in her red dress, with a plastic cup in her hand, talking to Monty and Miller (who have been dating since shortly after they returned from Mount Weather).  
“Aw. You ditched the skirt,” Monty says as a way of greeting when he approaches them.  
Bellamy scowls. “It’s a kilt,” he says. “And yes, I ditched it. I actually like having all my toes and my legs, you know. I only wore the darn thing because it’s tradition.”  
“Do you think that particular tradition will ever make a return?” Monty asks. “I’m not asking for me, of course. But I know a couple ladies that enjoyed it.”  
At this, Monty shoots a wink at Clarke, who glares back at him. “What? I only said it looked like he was cold,” she protests.  
“Which means you were looking,” Monty says, and her glare deepens.  
Bellamy coughs. “I’m still here, you know,” he says. “Monty, I don’t think you want to push her today. She’s already being forced to wear a dress. Let’s not torture Clarke anymore today.”  
Monty rolls his eyes. “Alright, Papa Bear. Whatever you say. C’mon, Miller. I need more moonshine.”  
He grabs Miller’s arm before he can protest, and practically drags his boyfriend away. Bellamy sighs. “Sorry,” Clarke says. “I don’t know what their problem is. I keep telling them over and over that there’s nothing going on, but they won’t leave it alone. They’re so damn stubborn, it’s infuriating.”  
“You’re not the only one,” Bellamy says. “I’ve got Raven and your Mom constantly hounding me about the nonexistent relationship we have. No one seems to believe that there’s totally nothing between us... like that.”  
“My Mom?” Clarke looks surprised. He nods. She swears. “Sorry. I’ll tell her to lay off. Wish everyone would just mind their own damn business, though.”  
He nods. He doesn’t tell her he actually doesn’t mind the rumours. Sometimes he even goes along with it. Like a couple weeks ago when one of the girls asked him if he wanted to “hang out”, and he told her he already had plans. The girl got annoyed and asked if those plans included Clarke, and Bellamy just said yes, because it was easy and he didn’t really want to talk to her anymore.  
“For the record, I was freezing,” he says after a moment of silence.  
Clarke bursts into laughter, and then they’re both laughing. He missed this, he thinks. Being able to laugh with her until his ribs hurt. He missed her. Having her back was hard at first, but now it’s like she never left.  
Their laughter is cut short by the sound of beating drums, and they turn to see that Lincoln and Octavia have arrived. He wonders if it’s just the fading sunset on her skin or if Octavia is actually glowing.  
“The bride and groom will now have the first dance,” Indra announces from somewhere, once the drums stop. “Joined by Clarke and Bellamy. It is tradition that leaders join in the couple’s first dance. After Clarke and Bellamy join, you will all be invited to join in a traditional Trikru dance.”  
His heart stops, for a fraction of a second, and he looks at her. He can’t deny that he’s wondered what it would be like to dance with her, to hold her close. But he shakes the thought out of his mind. It’s just tradition, the small voice in his head whispers. It means nothing.  
So they join Octavia and Lincoln in the middle, and Bellamy catches his sister smile at him as he pulls Clarke toward him. From the crowd, he spots Monty and Miller watching with triumphant smirks on their faces, and Abby Griffin giving him a warning look.  
It’s as if he’s on autopilot. He’s painfully aware of her closeness, and he wonders if she can hear how fast his heart is beating. “Are you okay?” Clarke whispers.  
“Fine,” he says through his teeth. “Why?”  
She frowns, disbelieving. “Because you’ve gone completely rigid,” she says, “and you look like you’re in pain.”  
“I don’t like dancing,” he lies. He used to dance with Octavia on the Ark, but that was a long time ago. He was pretty good at it, even. But this is different. This is Clarke, and her mother is glaring at him and everyone is watching, and she’s wearing some kind of intoxicating perfume and being this close to her—touching her like this—is making his heart race.  
“O told me you used to dance with her all the time, and she’s pretty sure you secretly enjoyed it,” she says. “So that’s not true. It’s me, isn’t it? You’ve been acting weird since I came back. Did I do something, Bellamy?”  
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Really. Just drop it, okay? Let’s just get this over with so your mother can stop giving me death glares.”  
He doesn’t mean to say it, but he does, and Clarke’s eyes widen. She seems to realize something, and he watches as her gaze flickers to her mother, and her eyes narrow.  
And she does something. She steps closer. She has no idea what she’s doing to him already, and she steps closer, and Bellamy’s heart seems to stop. “I don’t care what my mother thinks,” she whispers, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Instinctively, his grip tightens on her waist. They are dancing almost as close as Octavia and Lincoln now.  
“Clarke,” he says. He can feel Abby Griffin’s piercing stare. “What are you doing?”  
She grins. “Whatever the Hell I want,” she says. “Does it bother you?”  
“N-no,” he stutters, staring at her. There’s a wild look in her eyes and it kind of scares him. He has no idea what’s going on in her head. “But is my sister’s wedding really the place to start a fight with your mother?”  
“I don’t care,” she says again. “You know, after six months, I’d have thought she’d have warmed up to you by now. Or at least tolerated you more.”  
“She tolerates me,” he says. “We got along perfectly fine until you came back, actually. Then she got it in her head that there was something between us, and now she doesn’t trust me at all. Well, around you, anyway. You realize this is only going to make her dislike me further? I’d been doing pretty well at convincing her there was strictly a professional relationship between us so far.”  
“There is strictly a professional relationship between us,” she says. “And you don’t need to convince her of anything. If she can’t get her head out of her ass, that’s her problem. Don’t let it bother you.”  
But it does. It does bother him. It’s ridiculous—Bellamy has never cared what someone thinks of him, especially an adult. But Abby’s not just an adult—she’s Clarke’s mother. And maybe it’s stupid to want her approval, but he can’t help it. If he’d been Wells or even Finn, he wouldn’t have had to fight tooth and nail to earn Abby’s trust. For once, he’d like to hang out with Clarke without having her mother glaring at him with accusing eyes.  
“Whatever,” he says, finally. “It’s not important, anyway.”  
She nods. “Let’s just have fun,” she says. “I mean, you don’t get to have a Grounder wedding every day. We should enjoy it while we can.”  
They continue waltzing in silence, and then the drums stop. He lets go of Clarke instantly, and when the drums begin again, the others join in. They dance in a line, holding on to each other, dancing in a circle around Octavia and Lincoln.  
After the traditional Grounder dance, they are called into the dining tent, where a meal has been prepared. Bellamy sits on Octavia’s other side, with Clarke and Raven next to him, at a long table in the front of the tent that looks out to the others.  
Bellamy wants nothing more than to escape, to have a few minutes to have a few minutes to himself. He can’t think clearly—not with Clarke sitting so close to him. He can still feel her arms wrapped around his neck.  
Dinner is roasted meat (he’s pretty sure it’s some kind of duck) and potatoes and vegetables straight from their gardens, and a thick gravy. Someone has made fresh bread, and there is cheese and fruit platters. There is wine and ale to drink, and Bellamy admits the ale is some of the best he’s tasted yet.  
The dining tent is filled with conversation, laughter from every corner of the room. Everyone’s in a good mood. He should be, too. He smiles and joins in the conversations, and makes an effort at appearing happy for his sister’s sake. This is her wedding, and he doesn’t want to ruin it by being miserable.  
“What’s wrong?” Octavia asks finally, about half an hour into dinner. A soup has been brought around. He takes a bit out of it, avoiding her question.  
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “Don’t worry about it, O. You shouldn’t be worrying about me—you just got married. This is your day.”  
She sighs. “Bellamy, I’m not stupid. I know something’s wrong,” she says. “It’s Clarke, isn’t it? I saw your face when you were dancing. It’s none of my business, but you can’t keep avoiding the truth, Bell.”  
“There’s nothing to admit,” he says, forcibly. Begging that she gets it—that she realizes that he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Is it okay if I go get some air? I need a minute. I’ll be back.”  
She looks at him, her eyes sad, and he feels guilty. She shouldn’t be sad. She shouldn’t be sad for him, or worry about him. This is her wedding day. Octavia’s attention should be on Lincoln, her husband. Not him.  
“Alright,” she says. “But don’t be too long.”  
He nods. He takes another gulp of ale, and then stands to leave. Clarke gives him a questioning look, but he ignores it and heads out of the dining tent. Several people look at him curiously, wondering why the bride’s brother is leaving halfway through the meal probably, but he doesn’t care.  
Finally he’s out of the dining tent, and the cool evening air is a relief. It was starting to get stuffy in the tent with all those people. He takes a few deep breaths, inhaling the fresh air. His head already feels much clearer.  
He heads away from the tent, not wanting to risk being disturbed. He walks maybe five feet away, so he can still see if anyone comes looking for him. He finds a place to sit down. The snow is cold, but at least it won’t stain his yellow-white pants.  
Octavia is right, of course. He will eventually have to admit the truth. He can’t keep denying what he feels for much longer. The thing is, he’s pretty sure that Clarke knows it already. Sometimes, she’ll look at him and there’ll be something in her eyes. Sometimes she says something, or touches him in a certain way, and he can almost swear that she feels the same way. But neither of them ever say it. The words are never spoken.  
When she first returned, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He was pissed. He felt betrayed, angry even. But then he realized he was actually glad. He was happy, that she was home and she was safe, that she had come back to him. He was still hurt by her leaving, but he forgot about being angry within a week or so. He could only be angry for so long. And besides, he’d missed her too much to avoid her.  
But it’s different now, he thinks. They spend more time together, even if most of the time the others join them. But only sixty percent of the time they’re with Octavia and Lincoln, or Raven and Wick, or Monty and Miller and sometimes Harper. The rest of the time, it’s just the two of them. And they talk for hours now. They’ll be talking and the next thing they know, four hours have passed. He just completely loses track of time when he’s around her.  
And Clarke is the only one who can make the nightmares go away. There have been plenty of nights that they've woken from nightmares to find themselves outside, and somehow she ends up in his small hut or he ends up in hers (usually the former, though). And having his arms around her always makes the nightmares go away. She always leaves before sunrise, though. He knows she doesn’t want to risk getting caught, as it will just add fuel to the rumours, but honestly, he doesn’t care and there’s a selfish part of him that wishes that he could wake up with her just for one morning.  
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by footsteps, and he looks up, half-hopeful. But when he sees it’s Abby, not Clarke, who’s walking toward him, he stands up, preparing himself. He knows she’s been looking for an excuse to yell at him. She probably wants to yell at him for dancing with her daughter, even though he had no choice in the matter.  
“There you are,” Abby says. “People were starting to wonder if you were okay. I offered to make sure.”  
Sure you did, he thinks. “I’ll go back in a minute,” he says. “Tell them I’m fine.”  
She gives a tight smile. But she doesn’t leave—of course not. He hadn’t expected her to. “I also wanted to talk to you,” she says. “I thought I had made myself clear, but it appears not. It also appears that you lied to me before.”  
“Excuse me?” He bites out, trying not to glare at her.  
She drops the smile. No pleasantries now. “You lied to me when I asked you what your intentions were with my daughter,” she says. “I asked if there was anything romantic between you, and you said no. You also specifically said that you didn’t feel that way towards her. That you had no intention of pursuing her. I know your reputation among the girls here, Bellamy. My daughter deserves better than a cheap one-night stand.”  
He’s pissed now. “I’m sorry, Dr. Griffin, but you’re been mistaken,” he says. “I haven’t been with a girl here since we were sent down here to die. I’m not sure if you’ve realized or not, but most of the time we were fighting for our damn lives. I don’t know what you’ve been told, Dr. Griffin, but you are sadly mistaken.”  
“Whether it was true or not, the fact remains that you did lie to me before,” she says, voice hard as the ice under his feet.  
“Look, Dr. Griffin. I have done everything possible to earn your respect, your trust,” he says. “I have followed every rule you set. I have obeyed all the laws. I have done nothing to earn your hatred. Whatever problem you have with me, it’s not because of me at all, is it? You just don’t like the fact that you don’t control Clarke anymore. You have no say in what she does. And you think that’s my fault.”  
Her eyes flash. “She is my daughter,” Abby says. “I am her mother.”  
“That may be true. But you don’t control her anymore,” he says. He knows she’s only going to get more pissed at him, but he needs to say this. “You haven’t controlled her since she was sent down her to die, and long before that, even. Clarke doesn’t need you anymore, Abby. She still loves you. She still wants you to be there. But face it, she doesn’t depend on you anymore.”  
It might be harsh. And it’s not his place to say it, but she has to hear it.  
Abby glares at him. But then, his words seem to sink in, and the glare fades. She looks at him, like she wants to be mad but she can’t be. “But she does need you,” she says softly. “She does depend on you, rely on you. She trusts you more than she trusts me.”  
“That’s not what I—”  
But she cuts him off, shaking her head. “No. Let me speak now,” she says. “You’re right. Clarke doesn’t need me. And maybe I should’ve accepted this a long time ago, but I was being a coward. She’s the only one I have left. I don’t want to let her go. I didn’t want to admit it, but you’re right. I don’t get to have a say or control her life anymore.”  
“I didn’t mean to be harsh,” he says. “That wasn’t my place to say those things.”  
She shakes her head again. “No, you were right to. I wasn’t being fair,” she says. “I apologize for being... unbearable. And... I don’t have a problem with you, really. I do trust you. And I should’ve thanked you a long time ago, for keeping my daughter alive when I wasn’t able to. So thank you.”  
He shrugs. He didn’t do it for her, but he doesn’t say that. “I’d never let anything happen to her,” he says. It feels very vulnerable, to say that.  
“I know,” Abby says. “But listen, Bellamy. Everyone can see the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you. Tell her, before it’s too late. If you can make her happy, then go for it. The one thing I’ve always wanted for Clarke is to be happy. She deserves that. And the both of you deserve to be happy, after the hell you’ve been through.”  
He’s stunned at the words. He just stares at her. “So... you don’t hate me?” He asks.  
She laughs a little. “No, Bellamy. I don’t hate you,” she says. “I’m going back in now. I can send Clarke out?”  
“No,” he says. “I mean... I need some time. To do this right.” Plus, he’s not sure he wants to tell her at his sister’s wedding.  
Abby nods. She smiles at him, and then heads back towards the dining tent. He can hear laughter and music.  
He stays outside for a few more minutes, trying to calm his heart. Then he heads back inside. Octavia and Lincoln are dancing, the tables have been pushed to the edge of the tent. They look happy, and Octavia is glowing. He smiles at the sight.  
He spots Clarke, standing several feet away by herself. Raven and Wick are standing together a few spaces away, Raven’s head on Wick’s shoulder, looking perfectly content. He walks around the crowds of people standing around Lincoln and Octavia, clapping. He reaches Clarke, walking up behind her.  
“I’d wondered where you were,” she says, before he can say anything. “Everything okay? I saw my Mom follow you out.”  
“It’s fine,” he says. “She just wanted to talk.”  
He slides up beside her, and, feeling brave, takes her hand. She freezes in surprise, but quickly relaxes and her fingers curl around his. “Did she chew you out?” She asks.  
“No,” he says. “Let’s just say you don’t have to worry.”  
She looks at him in surprise. But he shakes his head, mouthing not here, to her. She nods, understanding. “Bell,” she says. His heart does a little skip. She rarely calls him Bell, except when she’s feeling particularly affectionate. There are other couples joining Lincoln and Octavia now, and she tugs on his hand. “Let’s dance. I want to make good use of this dress.”  
He smiles, and lets her lead him onto the dance floor. This time, he’s the one who pulls her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. Her arms go around his neck, and she smiles. “Did you really like the kilt?” He asks her, as they dance together.  
She blushes. “I may have appreciated it,” she says.  
“Hmm. Is that all?” He asks. She nods. “Well. Would it be very distracting, then, if I were to wear it more often? When it’s warmer, of course?”  
She stares at him. “Are you flirting with me, Bellamy?” She whispers.  
“And what if I was?” He asks.  
She gulps visibly, looking a little flustered. “I would ask why,” she says. “It’s the dress, isn’t it? I’m not going to be toyed with just because I’m in a dress.”  
“Toyed with? Clarke, really,” he says. “Do you honestly think I’d do that to you?”  
She looks away. “I don’t know,” she says. “I know how you are with women.”  
He’s offended that she thinks he would treat her that way. It annoys him more than her mother’s earlier accusation. “Clarke,” he says seriously. “I haven’t slept with anyone since Raven. And that was months ago.”  
She looks surprised. “But...” she starts. “I... I thought... I’ve seen you talking to girls.”  
“I told them all no,” he says. “Every single one. Even when you were away and I wanted to, I never did.”  
“But why? It doesn’t make sense,” she says.  
He fights back a sigh. “I didn’t want to do this here,” he says. He looks around. No one’s paying attention to them. “Come with me.”  
They stop dancing, and he leads her out of the dining tent, back outside. She follows, looking confused. The wedding space has been set up around the Ark, and the huts they spent months building are several feet away. “Where are we going?” She asks.  
He doesn’t answer her. They reach his hut, and he stops, standing outside the door. No one will find them here unless they decide to come looking. But it’s the perfect place to be alone. This isn’t how he wanted it to go, but he’s no choice now. “I had hoped to have more time,” he confesses. “I guess there’s no time like the present.”  
She frowns. “Okay,” she says. “So. Answer my question.”  
“I tried, once,” he confesses. “It was the week you left. I was lonely, and depressed. I’d drunk too much, and the girl... she was there, and she was offering. So I tried. It was just kissing. We didn’t get past that. It was wrong. It felt wrong. And then I looked at her, and her eyes weren’t right, and I... I just couldn’t.”  
“Why?” She asks again, her voice so quiet he can barely hear her. She’s not looking at him, and all he wants is for her to just look at him.  
“Because she wasn’t you,” he whispers. “Clarke, I realized a long time ago that I didn’t just think of you as my co-leader or a friend, or even as family. It took until you came back from Mount Weather the first time, and you hugged me, that I finally admitted it to myself. I’m in love with you, Princess. I love you.”  
She closes her eyes on the words. He hears her taking a deep breath, and then she opens them, and her eyes are shining with tears. “Bell,” she whispers. “My mother...”  
“Doesn’t have a problem with me,” he finishes. “I told you you didn’t have to worry. We talked. Abby approves, trust me. She said something about how we both deserve to be happy after everything we’ve been through. She said she trusts me.”  
“Really?” She asks.  
He nods. “I swear, Princess,” he says.  
She’s quiet for a long minute, and he starts to panic, thinking he made a mistake, that she doesn’t feel the same and he was wrong. Of course she doesn’t feel the same, he thinks bitterly. Why would she love him? She deserves better. Much better.  
“Bellamy,” she whispers. “I love you. But if you don’t kiss me right now, I might actually hit you.”  
He exhales. And then he does kiss her. He lifts her into his arms, and he kisses her, and it’s better than anything he could’ve dreamed.  
And she kisses him back. Her arms are around him again and she’s kissing him like she’s drowning, like she’s been waiting just as long as he has to do this.  
And Bellamy has never been this happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! This is my second fic that I’ve written, but I will be posting the other soon. I really hope you liked it and any comments are appreciated. :)


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